


Heartbreak Quarantine

by melodramers



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Break Up, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Heartbreak, Homosexuality, M/M, Makeup, Makeup Sex, Male Homosexuality, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Break Up, Quarantine, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodramers/pseuds/melodramers
Summary: With the outbreak of a pandemic all around the world, the local government decress a lockdown for the entire country. Meanwhile, Miles and Brandon, two ex-lovers that ended up being a duo on a college assignment, are on Miles' apartment preparing their assignment, and have to stay together for the night. As they deal with the new information, their assignment and the sleepover, both revisit memories, unhealed bruises and scars of their relationship, as both try to hide the fact that they still love each other.
Relationships: Miles Bennett/Brandon Mitchell
Kudos: 4





	Heartbreak Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> “I'm laughing with my lover  
> Making forts under covers  
> Trust him like a brother, yeah  
> You know I did one thing right  
> Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night”
> 
> (“Call It What You Want”, Taylor Swift)

It was a typically boring Wednesday at my very small apartment, close to 7pm, when I was sitting on my couch playing with my cat and the entire world seemed to freeze when the CNN program started. I had stayed away from Twitter all day because I was busy idealizing my assignment in advance like I always do, so the shock was bigger when I heard from the handsome presenter of the CNN show that the virus that started around Asia is spreading all around the world. My friends always say I’m alienated from all that’s happening in the world because I live in the world from the books I read, but this time it was for good. The virus has already infected dozens of people in the city I live in, and the government has the idea of a curfew. The prevention methods are very simple but very important: wearing masks, washing hands, no close touching, kissing or hugging, which is simple and normal to my single ass, but I’ll have to deal with physical contact just for tonight. It’s Friday, and my college friend is coming over for us to make a group assignment for college. It’s weird to call him friend, but it’s what he is. Unfortunately.

Brandon Mitchell was, and is, my first love. Our relationship was magical, and I will never be able to explain how I feel connected to him, but I feel like he is my soulmate. There’s no explanation for someone to be able to handle my company for years and don’t get tired of me and my bad and self-deprecating habits. I don’t know how to start talking about him, or if I should, but he was the sweetest, kindest heartthrob I’ve ever met. The first time our eyes met, I was petrified by the handsome smile he had. We met in the last year of high school, on one of those college visits. He was from New York, and I was from Texas, and we were both applying to UCLA. I grew up in a very difficult household. My parents didn’t understand who I was and what I was feeling being a seventeen years old gay coming out for the first time four months before I moved to another state to study. It was tough. I won’t lie saying that my parents were as acceptive as they are now, because they weren’t. It took months and lots of therapy sessions (for both parts) to finally be in a healthy and stable relationship. That’s when I built my self-deprecating and sarcastic sense of humor as a shield and coping mechanism. Most of the people don’t understand me at first, but my friends do, and at the end, that’s what matters. But what moved me about Brandon is that he understood me, at first, and somehow that was everything I needed at that moment. He met me while I was slowly going through the worst living nightmare I had ever dreamed, and he made it so easy to handle. 

Brandon was a year older than me and had already came out as bisexual. The point was that it was very different because his family were respectful and accepting at first, and mine wasn’t. He managed to create a fake Facebook group (when people still used Facebook) called “My Kid Is LGBT”, in which moms and dads could join and discuss these topics and understand more about it. Turns out it worked, and somehow my parents reached out to his and understood me, and now the group has lots of parents wanting to learn about what their kids identify with, and it is beautiful. With that, I can honestly say that Brandon saved me. 

Brandon owned my heart on the fourth day after we met, and I knew from then that I should risk it all to have him, and I did. We changed numbers hoping we would contact each other again when we got in, and it happened. We were roommates in the first semester until my parents let me rent an apartment near college, and he stayed alone at the campus. In one of those times sleeping in the same room and living with each other all the time, I fell in love with him. And he fell in love with me. Our first kiss was at the beginning of the evening, on a cloudy Friday. He was leaving LA to visit his family for the weekend, and he gave me a goodbye kiss, and before I could even react, he just left. I had to keep it to myself for the entire weekend, wondering if he wouldn’t text me because he feared my reaction, or because he regretted it. The next Monday, we met in front of my building, and I kissed him. We walked to college holding hands, but we weren’t an “item”. Yet. Later that day, he took me out to Five Guys, my favorite junk food restaurant ever, because he knows me so well, and asked me if I wanted to be his boyfriend. Brandon was the first one that entered and lived in my heart, but also the one that broke it and messed it up like after a house party. He was my first boyfriend.

We stayed together for three and a half years, and some weeks before my twenty-first birthday, we broke up. It became toxic somehow, and it was hard for both of us. He was my partner in crime, and it was too much for me to take, so I got drunk on wine and drunk-called him at 3am crying the hell out of me and telling him how he broke my heart. He stayed silent the entire call, and when I stopped talking, he turned it off. That was the last time we spoke in six months. I try my best to forget that call, but some parts are still vivid in my mind, just like our story. I mean, it’s been six months since we broke up, and it’s hard to go through a relationship that lasted so long in such a short amount of time. This is my first break-up, and I hate it already.

Six months after we broke up, I saw myself dealing with the worst scar of my life that wasn’t completely healed yet being touched and bleeding again when my Photography teacher at college said that our class had a group assignment due to next month with the duo we selected at the beginning of the semester, and yes, Brandon is my duo. Then, we are supposed to meet tonight in my apartment to do this assignment. But I still have so much to go through. It’s hard when things end, especially when it means a lot. It’s like when your favorite TV show is cancelled and there’s nothing you can do about but cry and rant on Twitter. I still can’t listen to Taylor Swift’s “Call It What You Want” because it was our song, and even though he didn’t like Taylor, he still cried when I chose that as the background song for our two years anniversary video montage. See? I still remember everything, and it hurts so much. I still love him. 

I wore a simple light-yellow tee and pants and tried to make my dark blonde straight hair look good. I looked at myself in the mirror in my pink tiled bathroom and, as usual, didn’t like what I saw. How am I supposed to dress to meet my ex-boyfriend? When I noticed my anxiety was consuming me, I decided to turn off the bathroom lights and ignore my inner thoughts. I have always been too thin, and it may be good for some people, but it wasn’t for me, and I’ve always been bullied at school because of my appearance. The thing is that people are never satisfied with how other people look, and always have something to judge. I just miss the way Brandon made me feel safe and secure when I was with him. I have been feeling nostalgic all day remembering him, and I tried to get over these memories flooding my brain while cleaning my dining table before he arrived, but the doorbell rang, and it was him. I opened the front door and faced him there. He’s still taller than me, even though I grew up a little, and was wearing a black shirt slipped on his dark black jeans, with a silver chain around his neck, black sneakers and his leather backpack on his shoulders. He had cut his hair recently, shaving on the sides and leaving the curly top proportionally big, and his dazzling and intimidating eyes were just there to match his face. He smirked, and said “hello”, but I was completely frozen. God, why did he have to do that to me?

“Oh, hi, Brandon. Nice to see you.” I said, fully opening the door to let him in. Before I had to ask, he had already taken his shoes off and left them at the door. Some things we can’t forget.  
“Have you seen the news? This is so fucking scary.” he said, with his raspy voice, taking his backpack off and leaving it on the floor, standing by the wall.  
“I know. It’s just… weird. Sounds like the end of the world.”  
“Yeah, it sucks.” he said, standing in front of me. For one second, I thought he would kiss me, like he always did when he got home, but he just gave me a hug. “Oh, this is new.” he said, pointing to the “Lover” vinyl case hung up on my living room’s wall, above the couch, near to the “Lust for Life” one. I have a vinyl player and a huge collection of my favorite records, and I hung up my two current favorites and the ones that mean a lot to me, while the other ones stay near my player, on the hack under the TV in my living room.  
“Yeah, my mom got me as a gift.”  
“Nice. Remember that Halloween?” he asked, triggering the memories in my mind.

It was two months after he asked me to be his boyfriend. I was in my apartment getting dressed up to the Halloween party someone from our class that I can’t remember was hosting. I got dressed as a David Bowie fan, which is true, so I drew the lightning in my face and wore a white turtleneck with a black tee with the lyrics of “Heroes” on the top of it, slid into my dark jeans. I was insecure about wearing makeup. I never wanted to, but when I would wear it for a party or another purpose, it always made me feel insecure that people could use that to judge me and my sexuality, but Brandon almost brainwashed me to realize that I don’t have to be afraid of the homophobic people out there and what they think of me, and I should feel safe, and that’s what’s most important. I was waiting for Brandon so we could go together, and when the doorbell rang and I rushed to open it, I faced the biggest surprise I could have. Brandon was dressed up as Taylor Swift in the “You Belong With Me” music video, with pajamas and the white shirt he made himself, with our names written all over it as Taylor’s friends' names were in hers. He wore pajama pants with cats all over it, which is a special and wise detail if you want to impress a Swiftie, and fluffy shoes. In the middle of all the surprise and funniness from the moment, I got mesmerized with his attitude, and that he did that just to make me feel comfortable that night. No one has ever worried about my happiness as much as he did, and that made me feel like he was the one.

“You’re kidding me.” I said, shook.  
“I know I said I didn’t like Taylor,” he said, walking in. “but I had to see your face.”  
“I am... speechless.”  
“So am I! You did this makeup on your own?”  
“Yeah, me and a beauty guru on YouTube.” I said, and we both laughed.  
“So... how do I look?”  
“I love you.” I said, without thinking.

It was the first time I had said it. He paralyzed, and so did I, and then he smiled. He walked close to me, held my hands strongly and hugged me, making me think he was about to say, “poor thing, so young and dumb”. My entire life until then was based on me hiding all the crushes I had in high school because I was scared to show my emotions. I am vulnerable, I am weak, and I realize that, but I hate when it is evident enough for people to see it and feel overwhelmed. I am needy, and I need to feel this unnecessary validation from people all the time, and I feel like Brandon realizes that. But the plot twist was what came next. He kissed my cheek, walking backwards and looking deep in my eyes. 

“I love you too.” he said, with the sincerest tone, and I knew he meant it.

We walked together to the party, because it was close to my apartment, holding hands, and everyone in the party seemed to be in a different orbit than us. It was just him and I there. The house was illuminated by the purple light placed on the roof, and everyone was blasting to the pop song playing through the huge and expensive set of speakers on the top of the wooden bookshelf near the entrance. I heard the music as an echo because everything he said was so clear and so sweet. When we went to the backyard, people were trashy. Most of his friends, as he used to, were doing drugs, laying on the grass, near the pool, where all the girls and boys were making out. He didn’t drink that night just to make sure that I would be fine, while I got drunk as it was my first-time drinking. I wanted to try for a while, and I was still underage, so I tried there, and hated it, but I made the dumbest mistake of trying a bit of lots of different drinks and ending up mixing them all. I don’t remember much of it, just that my body felt lazy near the stairs and I laid down, calling for Brandon, and I remember the desperate look on his face, like he felt the need to take care of me, and I was so safe in his arms. He carried me away from the party, stumbling in the front yard, and we went home inside a dark blue Uber that smelled like weed at 2am. When we got home, he undressed me, leaving me only in underwear, turned the cold shower on and put me under the water, just to help me sober up a bit. The cold water fell over him with his clothes on, but he didn’t care at all, because he had to make sure I was alright. He put my pajamas on and laid me in bed, putting the blanket on me, and slept on the couch, alone. That was the first night he stayed over, and he was respectful enough to don’t do anything with me until I was conscious and sover. I could never forget that Halloween.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” I answered him, as he was already in my living room.

I said he could sit wherever he wanted to and presented him my tiny apartment as if he didn’t know every inch of it. I hate this. He sat on my couch, already comfortable, until he heard the noises coming from my bedroom, and Rory came out. Rory Gilmore is my little black cat that hates people in general and was named after one of my favorite characters ever, and he was with me when I adopted her at the adoption fair the campus hosted in my first year. She was rescued when she was three months old, and she has big beautiful eyes that hypnotized me and made me cry the second our eyes met. If I get to adopt a male cat, I’ll definitely name him Jesse. 

“Rory! Aw, I missed your cat.” he said, rushing to the ground to hold him, standing on his knees. God, that hit me like a gun.  
“I can tell she missed you too.” I said, but in my head, I wanted to say she isn’t the only one. It’s weird how Rory hates everyone but him.   
“So, how are you doing?” he asked, taking his eyes from Rory and looking at me.  
“Good. You?”  
“Going on.” he said, looking back at Rory.  
“So, the assignment… I’ve been doing some research for aesthetics and everything…”  
“Of course you did.”  
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I think we should do it black and white to match the story it is based on.”  
“What are we exactly supposed to do?”  
“Well, the professor said we should choose a story we like or relate to and then take a portrait that symbolizes the essence of the story.” I explained. “Personally, I see no point in this project and I can’t see why he wants us to do it but that’s how it works.”  
“Definitely.” he agreed, but he probably wasn’t sure of it. “What story are we using?”  
“Well, I was waiting for you to decide it, and I hope you thought of some stories we could use, but I am conflicting between “Call Me By Your Name” and “Lady Bird”. I know they’re both kinda clichés, but I like what they represent.”  
“Um… yea, totally.” he agreed again, looking absolutely confused. I like that on him. Damn, moving on.  
“Don’t you know what they’re about?” I asked. He nodded. “We watched them together!” I shouldn’t have said that.  
“No, I mean, I know the story, but I can’t see why you’re conflicted.”  
“I’ll try not to fanboy or be biased about it, but while “Call Me By Your Name” represents the innocence and discovery of true love, “Lady Bird” shows the desire of freedom and the desperation to grow out of your roots.” I said, trying not to sound way too excited. “I think both represent our millennial generation’ culture of seeking for love and also wanting to grow up but being scared of the entire process. I also thought of “Booksmart” but…”  
“I love it.” he said.

I noticed the shiny look in his eyes while I desperately spoke about two of my favorite movies as he looked at me, and a small smile was built in the corner of his mouth. I missed that look. His passionate look that, even though he didn’t care about what I was talking about, he was interested. I like to be heard, and he knows it.

“What?” I shyly asked.  
“Both. I really don’t know which one we should pick.” he said, sitting on the chair around my circle dining table.  
“Ok. Well, I made a Pinterest board with some ideas for both.”  
“Of course you did.” he jokingly said. I mean, he knows me.  
“Stop it.” I joked back. “Anyways, I got a lot more inspiration for “Call Me By Your Name”. The book is definitely one of the best I’ve ever read, and I thought we could write some quotes all over your face so when we take the picture…”  
“Wait, why me?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Why should I be the “model”?”  
“I mean, you’re the prettiest.” I said, totally regretting it the second I said it. I totally froze and I swear to God that I finally fully understood what “gay panic” means now.  
“You’re kidding me, right? You’re… God, stop with the self-deprecation.”

I was about to sit next to him to show the Pinterest board I made last night when the random program that was on TV was rudely stopped by the important flash news from the local news channel with information about the virus. Brandon stood up fast and walked to the front of the TV, sitting on the couch, and before the nostalgia from this scene could hit me, the voice of the same handsome CNN host from last Wednesday came up and caught my attention. 

“The government just published a public announcement that the entire country is under a strict curfew in the beginning of the evening, starting at 6pm and ending at 6am every day. You are allowed to go out only for the necessary, such as going to the hospital or to the doctor or supermarket essentials. For those who come out during the curfew, there’ll be several punishments. Stay tuned for more.” he said, before the outro came in and the program ended.   
“What the actual fuck?” Brandon gasped, with the evident desperation in his eyes.   
“Wow. What the… is this even legal?” I almost screamed.  
“I mean, when you have an emergency like that evolving health and stuff, it is. But like… I didn’t know it was this serious.”  
“God, this is so scary.” I said, and I don’t even know that to do. Brandon stood and looked down the window, and he saw the cops were already out.   
“Well, I guess I’ll have to stay over.”   
“What?”  
“I mean, I can talk to the cops but…”  
“No!” I screamed. Damn, I’m so awkward. “No. No, no. It’s safer if you stay here.”   
“Are you okay with it? I mean, after everything…”  
“I’m fine. I’m over it.” I said. The silence consumed the entire room.  
“Okay. Um… can I use the bathroom?”  
“What? Yeah, duh, sure!”

As he walked in and locked the door, I let the mix of emotions that were inside of me and jumped around in desperation. It’s my worst nightmare. I’m definitely not over it. I can’t be over it. How can someone be over a relationship that lasted almost four years? I hate this situation. I am obligated to self-quarantine with my first ex-boyfriend. This is a nightmare. Jesus Christ. 

“God, I need a coffee. With alcohol.” Brandon let out, sitting comfortably on the couch.  
“I think Coffy Coffee is closed now.” I said. Coffy Coffee is a café located on the campus, and we used to go there a lot.  
“Have you been there? I mean, recently?”   
“Yeah, I thought I’d never be able to walk past that café again.” I said, regretting it from the second the last word was out of my mouth.  
“Why?” he asked.  
“Because of… stuff.” I answered, already thinking of a way to change the subject. “Are you hungry?”  
“Umm, yea, kinda.” he answered.  
“I think I have a pizza here.” I said, standing up and walking into the kitchen, with him following me.

My mint colored kitchen was the place where we somehow always started what we finished in my room and was always the place where we fought and made up, except for that one time. It was a cloudy day when I stormed into my apartment crying with him coming after me. We had just left the Coffy Coffee, where I saw him with Harriet. She was our classmate in most of our classes, and she always showed interest in Brandon, and it was the main reason why I disliked her. But what made me feel safe is that Brandon never cared about her flirts, or I thought he didn’t. I walked into Coffy Coffee that day with a desperate and atypical desire to have a cappuccino, and I saw them together, cuddling and giggling, looking like a perfect couple. The second they saw me, they froze, and Brandon left her to come after me as I walked out and rode my bike to my apartment and he drove his Rover, following me.

“We weren’t doing anything!” Brandon said, closing the door. I walked to the kitchen ignoring Rory on the floor and opened the fridge to get water.  
“Of course you didn’t, and I imagined it all. For God’s sake, Brandon, do you think I’m dumb? So, you’re saying you never felt anything about Harriet?” I said, before I took a sip at my glass of water.   
“Well, I mean, I feel something but the one I love is you.”  
“Oh, cut the bullshit please. If you like her, why don’t you go after her?”  
“What are you saying?” he screamed. “What the fuck are you saying? You want to break up? You don’t trust me anymore?”  
“How am I supposed to trust you when you just told me you feel things for her?”  
“Because I am standing here in front of you telling you that I fucking love you!” he let out, barely crying. “Isn’t this enough?”  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t right now.”

I walked out the kitchen running to my dining table, to sit down and try to process my thoughts and try not to regret anything I have just said, but I couldn’t. That day was an entire rollercoaster of emotions and seeing Brandon with Harriet triggered all my insecurities. I have always felt so needy and so unlovable during my entire life, and Brandon has been my rock for three and a half years.

“Hey, Bran, I am so sorry, I…”  
“You don’t trust me anymore. I’m done.”  
“What?”  
“It’s over. I can’t keep up with this if you don’t trust me anymore.”

Brandon got his backpack from the floor, put it on his right shoulder and walked across the door, leaving without even looking back, and closing the door. That was the last time I ever saw him in these six months, and it’s all my fault. I spent all these six months watering feelings as they were houseplants but turns out they were all made of plastic. I expected things to grow out of nowhere while I couldn’t manage to make my relationship healthy. I gave into fear, insecurity and jealousy, and then I was left with nothing but my biggest fear: loneliness. I waited for him to call for two months, but that call never came, but I was afraid of calling. I was afraid that I would jump but the parachute wouldn’t open; I didn’t want to take an initiative because I feared the response of it. Now, I am staring at my fridge for a while thinking back at all these memories in this current situation and it just hurts me that we’ll never be the same. I still love him endlessly and so deeply that it hurts me so much to think that he might never want to be with me again.

“Miles?” he said, tapping on my shoulders, making me turn around. “Are you alright? You froze for a bit.”  
“What? No, I’m good. Just thinking of it all.”  
“This is so crazy, right? How people couldn’t control it and everything…”  
“Well, let’s focus on other stuff. We have an assignment to make and a pizza to bake.” I said, picking the premade pizza box on the fridge. “Cheese. Your favorite right?”  
“Umm, yeah.” I said, making both of us uncomfortable.   
“I also have white wine. Pinot Grigio.”  
“Oh, this is getting good.”

I put the pizza box on the sink and opened the cabinet above it to get the wine bottle and the glasses, while Brandon turned the oven on and put the pizza inside. I got him ice on his glass because while I think it is a crime, I know he likes it. While the pizza is getting ready, I put the glasses and the wine on the dining table. He sat next to me, and Rory gently jumped into his lap, crawling herself and laying there, and he laughed. 

“So, how’s life?” I asked, sitting down and taking a sip from my glass.  
“Umm, good. Lonely.” he giggled, and then did the same.  
“I can’t believe it.”   
“I haven’t been with anyone since… some months ago.” he said, taking another desperate sip.  
“Oh… well, same here. Just Rory.” I said, and he laughed. “But how’s everything going? Your parents?”  
“Oh, they’re fine. Yours?”  
“Same.” I answered. “I miss them.”  
“I visited mine two weeks ago.”  
“Oh, I wish. It’s just been FaceTime and texting.”  
“It sucks, right? To miss someone.” he said, and I took a strong sip. I felt that.  
“Oh, so much.” I answered. “This virus shit will stop me from going back home.”  
“This is so scary, I mean, how many people have died already?”  
“In our country, just a few. But in Europe, it’s horrible. They’re doing that to prevent us from reaching that point.”  
“That’s good. The sooner, the better”   
“Yeah, completely.”   
“They said elderly people are most likely to be seriously affected if they get it, and it makes me so bad because of my grandma.”  
“You’re both very close, aren’t you?”  
“Yeah, so much. I don’t even like to think of it.”  
“You shouldn’t. Just hope she’ll stay better.”  
“I will. Let me tune into CNN to see what’s going on.”

I stood up and walked to the TV, picking the remote control and switching channels until I got to CNN, and set the volume a bit louder. It was registered that almost a hundred have been infected with the virus in the country, but I have no information about its growth in Los Angeles. They also said that the government is thinking of the punishments for those who disrespect the quarantine order, and that the Italian government arrested a man that went out on the street.

“It’s good for you to stay here.” I said, going back to the chair.  
“Yeah.” he said, before taking a sip. “Oh, we have to finish the assignment.”   
“Oh, yeah! So, I think we should…”

I was interrupted by the alarm on my phone, telling me I should see how the pizza is going. I opened the oven, with the heat coming at my face, and it was ready. I took it out with the glove and put it on the big plate, taking it quickly to the table. Brandon’s eyes were shining as he looked at the pizza, ready to cut it. I ate the first slice, almost burning up my mouth, and it reminded me of all the times we reunited to eat pizza, drink wine and fall in love even more. After we were done, we sat on the couch and started looking for references online for our assignment. We ended up agreeing that we should take a picture of his face with some quotes from the book written all over him on Photoshop. I could start a full speech on how his face was perfectly sculpted by the angels, but I just said his jawline is perfect (and it is), and he took that. I drew some sketches of how the picture should be, but he suggested that we should take them the next day, and I agreed. I thought of the quotes I could use, but I just remembered the first time we watched the movie.

I read the book almost a year before the movie came out, and it became my favorite. When the movie came out, we couldn’t watch it in the movie theater because we were very busy with college and could never find time available for both. I waited for the movie to come out on DVD and bought it online. When it arrived, we made the exact same we are doing tonight: pizza and wine. I probably cried during the entire movie, and it just reminded me of the first days we were together, as friends. I liked him, I know I did, but I wouldn’t admit it, and neither would him. When the movie was over, and I was sobbing on my couch, he held me in my hands, looked straight into my eyes and said the most beautiful “I love you” I have ever heard. It was different because we weren’t laughing, and I said it or texted him. The entire room was in silence, and he just said it, out of nowhere, purely and emotionally, and I knew he meant it. 

“Turn the TV on again.” he asked, putting more wine on his glass and making me come back from the memory.  
“It’s on the commercials.” I said, taking a sip. “Have you seen Harriet?” I asked, out of nowhere, strongly but scared of his reaction.  
“What?”  
“I mean, have you seen her? Lately. I haven’t heard about her.”  
“No. She quitted and went back home. Some university in Pennsylvania.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Well, on that day we were at the café, she was telling me her parents were getting divorced, and she went back home to her mother.”  
“Wow… wow.” I said, shocked. 

For a second, the inside of my brain went off like a hurricane just went there, and I am in a mess. It’s all my fault. I overreacted something so simple to be explained and didn’t let him do so. We are apart because of me being a jealous, insecure, needy asshole. I can’t believe I gave up the biggest opportunity of my life to be with someone that really loved me deeply and truthfully because of jealousy. We stayed in silence for a bit, afraid of what they would say, until Brandon broke the silence by standing up, going to the kitchen to wash the dishes, with Rory following him.

“You don’t need to do that.”   
“I want to.”  
“So, I’ll make up the bed for you.”  
“Thank you.”

I walked into my room to get a pillow and a blanket for him, and came back to the living room to set the couch, but mine isn’t one of those that turn into a bed, so I wondered if it would be good for him to sleep on the couch, and it wouldn’t. I know him for ages, and I know he always complains about the pain in his back. But there’s no other place he could sleep but my bed. But will it be good to sleep with me? Not in a sexual way, but it’ll be better. I don’t know if I can do it, but I’ll try.

“You can sleep in my bed.” I said. “The couch is really bad. I mean, we are mature enough.”  
“Really? Okay.” he said.

He said goodnight to Rory, and we walked into the bedroom. I left with my pajamas to change in the bathroom and wondered if it would be a good idea. Would it hurt me? Would it hurt me? I don’t know. As I changed into my pajamas, I left the bathroom and walked into my room, and Brandon was near my desk. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it up to his head, taking it off and throwing it on the chair, unveiling his back, with a tattoo of a crown under his neck because it reminded him of his dad, and his toned body that drove me wild, and this scene triggered the nostalgia in me. From all the nights we came home together from the college pub rushing to bed in the frivolous first days of our relationship. When he pulled his jeans down, staying only in his black Calvin Klein boxers, I lost it. I could’ve jumped on him, both of us falling on the chair, making out for the entire night, but I held myself. We weren’t a couple anymore.

“Come on, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.” he said, jokingly, but quickly noticing how it affected me.  
“Stop it.” I said, giggling. 

He shyly walked to bed, laying and pulling the blanket over him. I also laid down, facing the opposite side, our backs close, and tried to close my eyes, but I couldn’t stop thinking of this night. I tried to fight the tears all night, but I couldn’t now. It was all too much for me to process that I am sleeping next to the first person that ever loved me and the one I want to hold hands until I’m old and can’t kiss him goodnight. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, standing on his elbows and holding my right cheek in the palm of his hand. I felt like I couldn’t hold it anymore.   
“I just wanted to say that, with all this virus shit, that if, I don’t know, one of us die, I just wanted to say that I haven’t healed any of the shit that happened in the past and I still love you like the first day, and I loved you more and more throughout the months and years we spent together. I hate how it went from strangers to lovers and now we’re strangers again, like, fuck. I loved you every single second since we broke up and I just wanted to get through it but I can’t and my paranoid ass is consuming the heck out of me and I just can’t get over it and you because I love you.”  
“Miles…” Brandon began, but I interrupted him.  
“I know that it felt overwhelming at that time and it may have felt like a good idea, but it wasn’t. You remember that night? That one night here in my apartment? You know that you saved me from doing something to myself that night showing up here. That’s what you do to me. You are my kind of savior. I love you, and I love you so bad. I don’t care if I fucked up our friendship or whatever it is, but I had to.”

The silence consumed the entire room. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, Brandon’s confused expression became a happy expression, and my body felt relieved for the first time that entire night. He held my hand tight, looking deep inside my eyes, and smirked. 

“I love you too, dumbass.” Brandon said, letting out a small laugh before pulling me close to him and kissing me.

The contact between our lips was what my body has been waiting for so long to relieve all the stress and anxiety I have been feeling for the past nine months and feel free again.

“When you said you were over it, that killed me.” he said, breaking from the kiss.  
“I thought you moved on, so I had to pretend I did too. I don’t like to…”  
“... to be the weak one.”  
“Fuck you.” I said, giggling. He kissed me again. God, I could do this all day. 

He held my waist and laid on top of me, and I could feel every inch of our body connected. His kisses got hotter and better at every time he did it, and I missed that. And now I know I wasn’t the only one. He smirked while kissing me, probably because he felt I was hard as a rock, and switched positions, pulling my body close and rolling in bed, with me on top of him. 

“Should we be doing this?” I asked, sitting on his lap and breaking from the kiss.  
“What do you mean?” he asked, grabbing the hem of my shirt and trying to lift it.  
“I mean… this. The guy on CNN said that…”  
“Oh, Miles, fuck that. I love you so, so fucking much.” he said, holding my face and kissing me passionately.  
“I love you more, Bran.”

Brandon took my shirt off, and along with it, all my fears and insecurities. He stripped me from my anxiety, and it felt so right that I didn’t even care about everything that was going on with the world for a second, because right now, it was just him and I. I rubbed my hands on his body from his chest to his belly button, going through his abs and it just got me even more excited. He rolled his eyes as he gripped my hips tight, while I sat on his lap. I started to slide my hand inside his boxers, feeling his recently shaved pubes, and grabbing the base of his cock. I took my hand off, and pulled his underwear down, and his cock jumped out of it, revealing his big, hard, thick member, and my eyes widened. He grabbed it, rubbing it up and down, but I stopped him, taking his hand off so I could grab it. I wrapped my hand around its base, leaned my body to the front and took it to my mouth. I don’t know how to describe the smell of it, but it’s like he sprayed perfume on it, and his skin was soft and good. I rubbed it up and down as I sucked, and it almost hit the back of my throat, so I knew I should take it easier. He grabbed my hair and made the up and down movements I did in his cock.

“Oh, you know how to do it babe.” he whispered. I rubbed it quicker, making his breath get heavier, but then he pulled my hair and my head left his dick. “Damn, please, I wanna finish it in you.”  
“Then, what are you waiting for?”

He smirked at me, that damn smirk, and then held my body and quickly changed our positions. He was on top of me, standing on his knees, his cock leaking precum, and he searched for his wallet. When he found it on the floor near my bed, he took the condom out of it. He bit the top of it, and then opened it with his fingers and threw the package away. I saw his difficulty in wearing the condom due to his thick length, and it would be fun if it wasn’t so hot. When he finally wore it, I laid on bed with my belly up, and he started penetrating me. 

“You want it?” he asked beforehand.  
“Yea yea, Brandon, please do it.” I said. 

He smirked at me, and then focused on what he was doing. He started entering me slowly, and it hurted, but it was a good pain; even though it hurted, I knew it would end soon. I looked down and only half of it was in, and I thought I couldn’t take it no more. There were tears in my eyes, because it’s been a while since we had done it for the last time, and I could see he was worried. Then, suddenly, he thrusted his body against my ass, and I knew it was in. It wasn’t hurting anymore. He started going back and forth slowly, laying on top of me with his hands on the bed working as pillars to his body. He started slow and sensual, and my moans were loud, noisy and uncontrolled, and he was controlling his very well. 

“Go hard, babe. I can take it.” I said in between moans.  
“You sure?” he said, heavily breathing.  
“Fuck, I want you so bad.” I said.

He held my neck with his left hand, pressing it against the bed, choking me, and the thrusts started to become rough and stronger. I could feel him high inside my body, and he was so good at it. He’s so experienced, he knows exactly what to do. He rubbed his thumb until it reached my mouth, putting it in and making my mouth get a bit opened. 

“Tell me how good I am, babe.” he said, holding my hips even tighter. “Say it.”  
“Fuck, you’re the best.” I said, breathless between moans. “Don’t stop, please.”  
“Call me, baby. Make me know you want it.” he said, with his raspy sexy voice.  
“Oh, Brandon...”  
“No, no, no. Try again.” he said, slowing down the thrusts. “Or we’ll stop right here.” he said, threatening me.   
“Please...” I started, and then I understood his game. “... daddy. Do me good.”

Then he smirked, and put all his energy into one powerful thrust, making me not only moan but yell in pleasure, and he liked it. He took his cock out of me, and before I could even ask, he flipped my body, making me face the pillows, and my ass up high so he could enter me. He entered me again, easily this time, and thrusted me hard at first. His thrusts were hard and full of passion and sexiness, and I was feeling his sweat falling on my back. He gripped my waist, moving it back and forth along with his thrusts, and his moans got heavier and louder, and it was pleasing as hell. 

“Babe, I think I’m coming.”  
“Cum on me, daddy. Please.”

His thrusts got slower as his breath got harder, and he took his cock off me, throwing the condom away. I stood on my knees, but he pushed me down. He walked closer, still standing on his knees, and rubbing his cock up and down, until he threw his head back and the white heavy liquid came out of his cock and fell all over my chest. He was heavily breathing, and I did the same with my cock. When he saw it, he laid down, taking it to his mouth. I felt every time he sucked my cock and arched my back, throwing my head back and rolling my eyes. He knew so well how to do it. I was close to coming, so I tapped his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. My moans got louder and uncontrolled, and as he took it out of his mouth, I cummed all over his neck. He fell in bed with his belly up by my side, both of us heavily breathing, and he turned around and kissed me. He stood up, looking for something to clean himself, but I stopped him.

“What about a shower?” I asked.  
“Oh God… yeah.”   
“Go. I’ll grab the towels.” 

He stood up, naked, and walked out of the room. As I heard the shower turn on quickly, I stood up too, and grabbed two towels in my armoire. I walked out the room to walk into the door on the left. My pink tiled bathroom was cold, and when I closed the door behind me, I saw him. His back was arched due to his movements washing his head, and the excess of shampoo falling all over his back with water on his tanned skin, and it was just so hot. He turned around, without even seeing me, and it was so pleasing to just stand there and watch the water fall all over his chest, running through his abs, reaching his cock and falling straight to the floor. As he opened his eyes, he saw me standing there, and just invited me to join him with his finger. I dropped the towels, walked slowly into his direction. I swiped the glass door to the right and walked in, turning around to close it, when he laid his hands on my waist and glued our bodies together. I felt his thick flaccid dick between my ass cheeks, and I turned around, facing his puffed chest, because he’s taller than me, then looked up for a kiss. He put his hands under my ass, grabbing it, while I tangled my arms around his neck. He walked backwards and I followed him, and I felt the cold water break off the heat of my body after sex, and it was good. I grabbed the sponge and washed his chest, full of cum, going down to his abs, and then curving on the waist to reach his ass. He let out a little laugh, and then did the same with me, cleaning my belly and going down on my thighs. I rubbed my hands all over his body, feeling his skin, and kissing his entire chest, then shoulders and pits. He turned the shower off and grabbed the towel on the floor. After we were both dried, he held my hands and guided me back to my room. He laid his arms on my body, laying the closest possible to me, and this was my best night of sleep in so long.

I woke up to the sunshine invading my bedroom, falling directly on my face. I still feel dizzy, but I can still recall how last night was the best night in so long, and I couldn’t be happier that he still loves me like I do. I opened my eyes, looking at the window near me, and the sky looked beautiful. It’s the prettiest tone of light blue, and the clouds matched it perfectly. I couldn’t see the sun from this point of view, but it was shining bright. I still feel his touch last night like it was the first time he touched me, and his kiss is still powerful as it was six months ago and that made me fall in love with him. I grinned at my thoughts, the memories were still awake in my mind, and they will be printed there forever, because I don’t want to forget any second of that night. His touch, his kiss, his temperature, the texture of his skin against mine. He healed all the bruises I had inside of me with just a kiss, perfectly placed at the right time, and this night was all that I needed for a while. This night filled the empty space in my heart delicately and fullt, and it was all because of him. That’s the effect he has on me. let out a big smile, without even noticing, looked for him in bed, but couldn’t find him, just the shape of his body on the blanket, and I felt so scared that he felt guilty and regretted what we’ve done and ran away without having to face me. My hands were almost shaking, and I stood up quickly in desperation and stared at the shape of his body on the bed. 

“Morning, Miles.” I heard a voice, turning around in bed and facing him standing at my door. He stood on the door, only in his black boxers, with that messy hair and the “just woke up” sexy look on his face.  
“Oh!” I let out in relief. “What a good morning.” I said, giggling.  
“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I made something.”  
“You made me breakfast?” I said, shook. “You’re kidding me, right?”  
“Well, you made it. I saw that you left your coffee in the fridge overnight to make a cold brew then put almond milk and creamer like you always do so I got them ready for you. And made pancakes.”  
“You know my coffee recipe.”  
“It’s been four years. I know you way too much. And I know I can’t get in between you and your coffee addiction.”  
“Damn, you know me so well.” I said, and we both laughed.  
“The only thing is that you didn’t have a tray.”  
“Sorry, I’m a low budget romantic. I never thought of buying one.”  
“Yeah, you never knew how to spend your money wisely.” he said, while leaving the plates at my desk and climbing back in bed. I stopped him, before we ended up in a flashback of last night and stood up. “Oh my god, you still have it?” he asked, pointing to the keyboard in the corner of my room.

Brandon is a musician, and that’s something I always admired about him. He sang to me every night before we fell asleep and he always knew how to make the best renditions of my favorite songs. He plays guitar and piano and influenced me into buying one so I could learn, since it’s always been my dream to play an instrument. He taught me how to play it, and I promised him I’d write him a song one day. I write poetry, and I write a few songs sometimes. I have a few drafts, but I never had the courage to show it to him. It all turns out being about how I don’t deserve him, and he hates this thought I have that I have him but I shouldn’t because he’s good enough to be with someone like me, and that he deserves better, because he says he loves me the way I am and he chose to be with me because he fell in love with every flaw and every good I have inside of me. He says his voice is baritone, which I have no idea what it means, but it’s beautiful. He had been in a band on the first two years we dated, and they were good, but they broke up when one of the boys joined the band of a famous singer and had to go on tour. He published a solo song on Soundcloud on our anniversary called “two”, and it was about how it has been in those two years we have been together, and that was the best gift I could ever receive. 

“Play me something.” I asked him, sitting down in bed again. 

He smiled, then sat down at the chair in front of it. He stayed frozen for a while, probably thinking of what he’d play, and then, after a few seconds, the first chords came out of the speakers. It started with a Db, E and an A, all together, and I already knew what song it was before he even sang the first lyric. It was “Love song” by Lana del Rey, and I got emotional immediately. He started with the chorus, and he sang it beautifully, like he meant it, and he did. 

“Would like to think that you would stick around, and you know that I’d just die to make you proud. The taste, the touch, the way we love, it all comes down to make the sound of our…” he sang, making a pause. “... love song.” he finished.

My eyes were welling up, and I was almost making my ugly crying face when he turned around, with a small smile on his face, and I just ran to him to kiss him. It wasn’t a sexual kiss, or a desperate kiss, or a make-up kiss. It was a reciprocal kiss, because he loves me as much as I love him. He laughed at the tears in my eyes because I get emotional easily, and I stood up to pick an outfit in my wardrobe. There are still some things I need to buy if I am going to stay in quarantine — cat food, bread, milk, juice, snacks, rice and some vegetables — and I have to go before people get desperate and start to stock food like it’s a zombie apocalypse. Brandon rushed to the shower, and I hate that he has to leave, so I wondered what if he spent quarantine with me. Since we’ll both be alone in our bedrooms, he could come over and stay for the quarantine. I mean, hopefully it’ll probably last a week or two. I picked a black turtleneck, jeans and a denim jacket, because it’s cold outside, and waited for him to get out of the shower. As we were both ready, I started to feel sad in advance since he has to leave. We spent six months in total distance, and now I don’t want to be apart from him any longer.

“Do you have anything like a hand sanitizer for me? I’ll go outside and it’s scary.” he said, giggling.  
“Yeah.” I said, opening my fanny pack. “I saw on Twitter that if you wash your hands while singing the chorus of “Baby One More Time”, it’s all good.”  
“I don’t know the chorus of it.”  
“Oh my god, why am I dating you?” I jokingly said, not noticing that I said it too fast.  
“What?” he said, smirking.  
“No, no, sorry. I didn’t mean to rush things.”  
“So you want to?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Miles Bennett, would you like to be my boyfriend? My lover? My one and only, my lifeline?”  
“You’re quoting Taylor Swift?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Do you know how this song ends?”  
“Yeah, and I love it.” he giggled, still holding my hand, and I lost my mind. “So…?”  
“I don’t want to spend any single second apart from you anymore, Brandon Mitchell. Only for quarantine, but then never. I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

He held my hand stronger and pulled me closer to him, scaring me at first, but when he held my waist and our lips connected, I felt so good. His kiss wasn’t healing and desperate like it was last night; it was soft and gentle, and even though its intention changed, it was still his kiss, and I just wanted to erase all the thoughts in my head at that moment so I could enjoy it, because I’ve missed it for a while, and now that I have it again, I don’t want to lose it. He broke from the kiss and walked me out the door, and when I saw him walking through the door, I didn’t panic, because I knew he would come back, so I just got my fanny pack and followed him with all the hope and love I have to give. We walked into the elevator in silence, just staring and smiling at each other, until both of our phones buzzed.

“It’s an email from college.” he said.  
“Mine too.” I said, as I unlocked my phone to keep reading it. “Our assignment is cancelled.”  
“Thank God.” Brandon said, laying on the elevator’s wall in relief, locking and keeping his phone in his pocket. “At least it worked out for something.” he said, looking at me and smirking.  
“Shut up.” I said, giggling. We stayed silent again, and then I said what I’ve been wanting to but was afraid of. “Do you wanna stay over? For quarantine?”  
“What?”  
“I mean, it might be only for a week or two. You’ll stay alone at the campus; I’ll stay alone with Rory here. We can be each other’s company.”  
“Oh, fine. Yeah. I wanna be with you.” he said, coming closer to a quick kiss. “But I gotta go home to get some stuff.”  
“Okay, fine. I’ll go to the supermarket for some shopping.”   
“Okay.”  
“Okay.” I said back.

The elevator reached the first floor, opening the doors and we walked out. He held my hand, and we walked into the door. We walked through the lobby and I couldn’t believe in what was happening right now. I got everything I wanted. It sucks that it took a pandemic to realize that, but now I am the happiest I’ve ever been in a long time. He opened the door for me, and the streets were empty, only with a few people walking fast. 

We left the building and had to leave him. But when we weren’t holding hands anymore, and he was already far from me, I didn’t feel scared, or unsafe. I felt good, because I knew that, even if we weren’t together now, we’d still be later today, and then the next day, and the next month, and the month after, because our love was strong, and somehow our souls are connected, like they are stuck together in a quarantine, and it wasn’t a heartbreak quarantine anymore, because I can finally see why we never forgot each other; we are soulmates. And in a matter of second, our song came to my head again in loops of that specific verse that symbolized what he meant to me, and I feel the same I felt four years ago on that cloudy afternoon when he kissed me before leaving for the weekend. This time, for the first time in six months, I can think of this song without crying, and I can sing it because I mean it. And just like the song, I’m doing better than I ever was.


End file.
